


MOTN: Потерянный

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22096309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: When the leader of the Russian werewolf pack, Matushka Iryna, comes to Thancred Waters for a favor, he doesn't feel he can refuse.
Relationships: Thancred Waters/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10
Collections: Music of the Night - Core fic and side stories





	MOTN: Потерянный

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Music of the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109850) by [amandaterasu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu). 



> An offshoot of Music of the Night, in which we explore how Thancred and Rinor came together. Late Christmas Prezzie for Rinor's player.
> 
> Also apologies, I'm not super experienced at writing M/M smut so it might be a touch awkward.

Thancred Waters, Ringmaster of the Midnight Circus, ducked his head as he pushed his way into the small tavern. To say that he was _anxious_ was the understatement of the century. Generally, the various werewolf packs kept to themselves, only meeting to discuss territorial disputes and mutual threats. Yet he had inexplicably received a request from the alpha of the Russian pack, Iryna, to meet in a seedy pub in Liverpool. 

His mind tumbled over the implication of just _what_ this Russian bint was playing at. Meeting in Liverpool was probably some kind of message that he was too thick to understand. Regardless, she was far from her territory, and well and truly at the depth of his.

He found her quick enough, the unmistakable scent of wolf just beneath a spicy perfume, and was surprised to see how _old_ she was. Most alphas would relinquish their leadership on the pack after a century or two, whenever they began to slow down, but she had to be at least four hundred years old or so, given the crows feet at her eyes and the swelling of her knuckles. Her hair was still dark, however, and he refused to comment. Would be rude, after all.

“Matushka Iryna,” Thancred said formally, offering a bow. “I am Thancred Waters, and you are a long way from home.”

“Yes,” the woman offered a dip of her shoulders and pressed her hands to his. “But let us not be so formal. I am not here as the leader of my people, but to ask a favor.”

“A favor?” Thancred frowned. “I don’t know what I could possibly do for you, Matushka, but if I can, I will.” Good relations could only help.

“It is my son. My detka.” She swallowed. “He is a headstrong one, my Rinor. He has been taken.”

“Someone kidnapped your son?” Something clenched between Thancred’s shoulder blades. Children were precious to their people, moreso even than to humans. Children were the future, and the entire pack would go to great lengths to see one returned.

She nodded. “He’s barely twenty. Decided he wanted to explore the world.”

Not an uncommon desire in the young, though if he’d been in Europe, propriety dictated that he find and introduce himself to the Circus. “I didn’t know he was in the area,” Thancred said. A diplomatic way to note but not demand recompense for the slight.

Iryna made a pained noise in the back of her throat. “Stupid boy,” she said, but it was full of affection. “Perhaps if you would have known, he would not have been taken.”

“We certainly would have kept tabs on him,” Thancred said diplomatically. 

“From what I have gathered he has been… been…” she struggled for the English word, and he gave her time, but she finally gave up. “He met a man from your navy, and they used some strange laws to steal him.”

 _Conscripted,_ Thancred thought, and winced internally. Though press ganging had been outlawed for a long while, conscription still occurred, especially of young foreign men who may not have the ability or knowledge to prevent it.

“And we’re in Liverpool because…” He glanced around.

“This is where he was taken,” she said. “I am getting old, and had planned to pass the leadership of my pack to one of my children soon. But I cannot give up with one of my little ones so far from home. I do not wish to begin a territorial dispute. I just…”

“Matushka,” Thancred said, interrupting her before she spiralled into hysterics. “You will see your son again, I swear it. If I cannot bring him to you I will bring you his body. But I will not rest until you know where he is.” 

The woman visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Waters. I will give anything, _anything_ you ask, to see him safe again.”

“With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

* * *

Iryna had returned to London not long after their conversation, to be more easily contacted by the rest of her pack for any important matters, seemingly content to leave it in Thancreds hands, though he suspected it had more to do with the limp she was trying to hide than a true desire to leave her son’s fate up to a stranger.

The last few days for him had been filled with questions, letting the rest of the circus learn as much as they could - the Russian boy had been taken in by a naval ship, the H.M.S. _Charity_ , a few months ago. This was _Charity_ ’s home port, so he expected it would only be a matter of time until she returned, and the barkeeps had been quick to note she was due.

Now Thancred waited, leaning on the wall outside the Dockmaster’s office, watching the ships come in. Even if one was not the _Charity_ , he was hoping to get word of her. A small clatter accompanied the exit of his latest indulgence - a young, buxom redhead named Anne - from the alleyway. She was still straightening her top from their little tryst as she walked over. 

“Bessie wasn’t lying that you know what you’re about.” She giggled. “Nor Harriet, nor Lottie, nor Rosie as well. Why, if I’d had my guess you’ve had more’n half the girls in Liverpool by now, waiting for that ship.” Anne leaned closer, hanging off his shoulder. “Got meself a handsome lad on the _Charity._ Should be in port by week’s end.”

Thancred raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t gotten myself into trouble with this lad, have I, bedding you?” He glanced askance. “He’s not your soulmate, is he?”

Anne laughed. “‘San old wives tale, that. You needn’t fear.” She glanced at the docks. “If the ship’s not in tonight, think maybe I could come by your rooms an’...” Biting her lip, she nudged him suggestively.

Thancred glanced out at the water. “Why not?” he shrugged. “Oh, but bring Bessie. And Harriet.”

* * *

Thancred woke with a pounding headache and a roil in his gut, and tried to make sense of the last night. He remembered the girls… and drinks… and… 

“Bugger and _fuck,”_ he murmured, sitting up. They’d gotten him drunk on something, slipped something else in the drink, and now… 

Now he was on the bloody _Charity._

“Oh!” Another voice said. “You’re up!” The accent was Russian, and it made Thancred laugh.

“Rinor, I take it?” He asked, and opened his eyes. 

His heart sped uncontrollably as he found himself staring into eyes as blue as the southern seas, sparkling mischievously. The mischief quickly faded and the young man stumbled back, a blush heating his tattooed terra cotta cheeks. “H-how do you know my name?” He glanced away, toward the door.

“Matushka Iryna - that is - your mother asked me to fetch you.” Thancred’s mind was whirling. _Grand, cosmic joke this is. Has to be. Did that batty old woman know?_ “I… should introduce myself.” He pulled himself to his feet, his sea legs coming back to him faster than they should have, and bowed. “I am Thancred Waters, Ringmaster of the Midnight Circus.”

“You know who I am, then.” Rinor said. He shifted uncomfortably. “I…”

Thancred said nothing. He wasn’t going to let his… _No,_ he told himself. _Not mine. Not yet, probably not ever._ Werewolf politics were complicated, leaving the pack to which you were born was uncommon, joining _another_ afterward was so rare to be unheard of. Anyway, he was getting off course. He wasn’t going to try and finish Rinor’s sentences. That’d just be feeding into this mad fever dream.

The boy obviously expected him to, however, and pouted at the floor a few moments.

“If you’ve something to say, then say it,” Thancred growled, then mentally cursed himself. This day was just going from bad to worse, and he was getting surly to boot. 

Rinor took a deep breath and said, all at once, “Thank-you-for-coming-to-save-me-but-I-didn’t-ask-for-your-help-and-I-hope-I-didn’t-offend-you-by-not-coming-to-pay-my-respects-but-I-have-to-prove-to-my-mother-that-I-can-do-things-on-my-own-and-don’t-need-help-or-protection-I-am-”

“What you are,” Thancred said, interrupting the flood of thickly-accented English, “is _in over your head.”_ He scoffed. “Was this your goal then? Conscripted, likely illegally, by Her Majesty’s Navy? There are _reasons_ we insist on the old ways, and one of the biggest ones is so that _daft idiots going through a rebellious phase don’t get accidentally press ganged!”_ Thancred realized he was shouting, and pressed a hand to his forehead, forcing himself to calm down. “You’re lucky you didn’t run afoul of anything _worse.”_

Rinor scowled. “You certainly are on a high-and-mighty horse for someone who got press ganged alongside me!” He put one hand on a support beam and easily slid past Thancred, towards the door. “I come in here to be nice to you and try to help, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Wait, Rinor,” Thancred said, and the young man stopped, but did not turn, leaving him to speak to a fluffy mop of dark hair. “I’m sorry I shouted at you. You know how precious children are. We were just so worried.”

“I’m not a child,” he growled.

“To your mother, you always will be. That is the way of things.” Thancred laughed. “But no, you’re not.”

He relaxed at that, and turned to face Thancred again. “Good. Can you get me off this boat?” Rinor grinned. “I don’t like being… being…” His grin vanished to another scowl. “I do not know your English word. Потерянный. To be away from where you belong and not know how to get back.”

“Lost.” Thancred supplied. “And you’re in luck. I gave your mother my word she would see you again.” Another bit of werewolf politics - oaths and words and statements sworn were sacrosanct - that would get in the way of… _No,_ Thancred told himself. _Not going to think about it. Not going to consider it. Definitely not going to get Потерянный in his bright… blue…_

Rinor’s arms were around Thancred’s neck before he realized what was happening, and a moment later they were kissing, all heat and teeth and sweat and tongue and Thancred knew he was as lost as Rinor, in an entirely different way. He broke off the kiss and looked down into the eyes that were growing on him _very_ quickly. 

“We can’t be caught like this, Rinor.”

He grinned up at Thancred. “But you liked me kissing you.”

“Heaven help me,” Thancred whispered, “I did.”

The Russian smirked like the cat that caught the canary. “You’re my родственная душа.”

“Your what?” Thancred was finding it hard to concentrate with Rinor’s fingers twisting in his hair.

“My родственная душа. My other half. The one whose soul is twin to mine.” Rinor leaned against his chest and swayed.

“That doesn’t seem to bother you in the least,” he replied.

“Why would it? You are very handsome, and a good kisser.” His smile made Thancred’s mind use obnoxious adjectives like _sparkling_ and _inviting_ and a hundred others that belonged in some bodice-ripper novel and not below decks on a naval vessel.

“I, uh…” he glanced askance. “We’re both men, Rinor.”

“So?” How could Rinor be so blasé about this?! “We’re also both werewolves, you’re a circus performer, and I’m… well, I don’t know what I am yet. Mama says I’m a brat.”

“I find myself unable to argue with the Matushka.” _Why are my arms still around him?_ Thancred’s mind railed. _Why am I kissing him again?_

It was an excellent kiss, and Thancred was hesitant to break it, but he did. “Still…”

Rinor shook his head. “It is not like proper society will accept us anyway. I know our relationship will have to be… unconventional.”

“We have a relationship now,” Thancred deadpanned. “I was wrong. You’re not in over your head, I am.”

“You don’t mind,” There was that delicious smirk again. “You’re thinking about kissing me again.”

Thancred raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I was wondering if you can swim.”

“I can,” Rinor asked, “why?”

* * *

“I _hate_ you!” Rinor yelled as he pulled himself onto the beach in Swansea two days later. “I hate _you!_ I hate _England!_ I hate _swimming,_ and the _sea,_ and whatever those slimy little things you made me eat are!”

Thancred stood on the beach and stretched. “You said you could swim.”

“You are the worst person!” Rinor yelled as Thancred walked toward him. “‘I have a plan,’ he says, ‘Just follow my lead,’ he says. Next thing I know I can’t sleep and have to swim for my life for two days and now I’m covered in water and salt and sand and -”

Thancred caught his lips with his own, pulling Rinor close and just reveling in the ability to stop moving and hold him for a few minutes. “If anyone asks, you’re my assistant. You got caught in the undertow, and I had to swim out and save you.” 

Rinor nodded dumbly, and followed Thancred up the embankment, wiping exhausted tears from his face. They walked in silence until they came upon one of many boarding houses near the docks, and Thancred went inside to spin their tale. Within the hour, they had a room to themselves, and a hot bath by the fire. 

“You go ahead,” Thancred said, and Rinor looked up at him in confusion. “You’re exhausted, and what you need is a hot bath, a warm meal, a drink, and a good night’s sleep. I could use the same. So you get your bath while I get the meals and drinks, then you can eat while I have mine.” Then he was out of the room in a flash, and leaned against the wall as he went down the stairs. He claimed this was for convenience, but in truth? Thancred didn’t know if he could survive watching Rinor undress.

* * *

Thancred woke to weight on his chest, and glanced down to see Rinor curled around him, murmuring in his sleep. The crescent moon was still high in the sky, so he decided to indulge a little bit, burying his face in Rinor’s hair and closing his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this, but for now at least, he could let himself dream of a world where he wouldn’t be parted from his soulmate now that he’d found him. Iryna would lose her mind if he tried to take him. He’d have to find some way to back her into a corner.

A soft groan accompanied Rinor waking, and Thancred whispered, “Sorry.”

The Russian laughed. “Don’t be, солнце.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over Thancred’s cheek. “I’m sorry I threw a tantrum today.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” he whispered back. “If telling me you hate me is the worst I hear from you on this, I’ll count myself lucky.”

“I don’t hate you,” Rinor tilted his head down, but Thancred caught his chin and pushed it back up, exposing his blush in the moonlight, then kissed him.

Without the salt and the sea and the stress, kissing Rinor was easy. They seemed to fall into it naturally, and before Thancred realized it they were pushing off each other’s clothes and he had him pinned beneath him on the bed. Thancred paused, and Rinor made a curious, cat-like noise in the back of his throat.

“Sorry,” Thancred said. “I don’t know if you want this, and…” he huffed. “I’ve never been with a man before. Not sure on the etiquette, or what to expect.”

“That’s fine,” Rinor said, smirking. “I haven’t been with anyone, so…” He shrugged. “You probably know what to do better than I.” He pulled himself up by his arms around Thancred’s neck, and kissed him. “And I do want this. I am very nervous about a lot of things, but not this, and not you. So let’s play it by ear, да?”

Thancred smiled. “All right.” He leaned down and kissed Rinor’s neck softly. “If you don’t like anything I’m doing, just tell me.” The only response he got was the young man’s wiggling and a pleased giggle, then he was leaving a wet trail of kisses down his chest. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going to do anything less for his soulmate than he had the thousand women before him.

He had always found men attractive, but mostly in a distant sort of way - society was not exactly welcoming to those kinds of feelings, so he’d always buried them under six swallows of brandy and focused on women, but his first taste of Rinor’s cock was like coming up for air after drowning for a lifetime. His partner squeaked deliciously at the touch, and Thancred had to brace one arm across his abdomen to keep Rinor from bucking off the bed as he worked. 

With growing eagerness and curiosity, Thancred explored every inch of his soulmate’s shaft, swallowing him in desperate gulps and stroking him tenderly with his fingers and tongue. He paid close attention to which things made Rinor squeak, sigh, and squirm, and soon found an easy rhythm of long, deep pulls on his cock accompanied by gentle strokes to his thighs and balls. 

His orgasm surprised Thancred at the time, though in retrospect he always wondered why - it had, after all, been the goal of the whole damn endeavor. But he found the taste of Rinor’s cum to be more pleasing than he expected, and felt a wave of possessive affection. No point fighting it now, but he would have to apologize to Matushka Iryna for stealing her son away the moment she got him back.

When Rinor’s breathing finally slowed to normal levels, Thancred released him and reached for the whiskey bottle, taking a quick drink and collapsing on the bed beside him. “I hope that was acceptable,” he teased.

Rinor’s face was flushed from both sex and embarrassment, and he kept kissing Thancred, murmuring in Russian. “Sorry love,” he said, “Don’t speak it that well.”

A soft chuckle escaped his Rinor’s throat, and his accent was thick when he murmured, “Your turn.”

Thancred intended to protest, but Rinor moved quickly when he wanted to, and he found his head dropping back to the pillows a moment after he’d pushed himself up on his elbows when Rinor’s hot mouth started devouring his cock.

“Oh,” Thancred gasped. “Bloody hell.”

* * *

Matushka Iryna wept in joy when Thancred entered the tavern in London a week later, Rinor close behind him. She ran to her son, kissing his cheeks and babbling in Russian while Thancred stood by awkwardly. The rest of the Circus was waiting outside the city, in breathless anticipation for how their leader would escape this particular dilemma.

Rinor spoke to his mother as well, speaking his native tongue in a quick, clipped way that sounded like a cat’s purr to Thancred’s untrained ear. Whatever he was saying had a guarded look entering his mother’s eye, and then she turned back to Thancred.

“My son tells me you saved his life, at great personal risk.”

Thancred shrugged. “It was nothing. I just got him off the ship and back to shore.”

“Don’t be modest,” Rinor chided. “You helped me swim for two days back to shore, then you saw to it I got rest and food and brought me all the way to my mother despite the fact that we’re both wanted men by the Navy.”

“I swore,” Thancred said simply. “I am a man of my word.”

The old woman nodded and kissed Thancred’s cheek in gratitude. “And I am a woman of mine. I told you I would give you anything if you brought him back to me, and you have. Name your reward, and you will have it. I swear it.”

That, of course, was what they had been waiting for. He glanced over at Rinor, giving the young man one last chance to change his mind, but he just beamed and nodded encouragement. 

Thancred turned his attention back to Iryna. “Then I would ask you permit Rinor to leave your family and join the Circus, as my…” He scowled. “What was the word?”

“родственная душа,” Rinor supplied, grinning.

Thancred nodded. “My родственная душа.”

Matushka Iryna’s face went through a number of shades of red in a short span, and she immediately began railing at Rinor in Russian, but he just grabbed Thancred’s hand and laughed. With begrudging glares she kissed the top of Rinor and Thancred’s heads, and demanded they come visit for the Winter Solstice.

As they headed out, Thancred turned to Rinor and said, “That was much easier than I thought.”

His soulmate grinned. “With one’s родственная душа, it always is.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this and want to check out more of my work, you can follow me on twitter: [@amandaterasu](https://www.twitter.com/amandaterasu)!


End file.
